Revealing Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 4) (14 page)

What had just happened? She didn’t even know, didn’t have the slightest clue why Evan taking off her glasses had sliced through her like a meat cleaver. Why he had to demand so much from her when all she’d wanted was a hot man in her bed so she could blank out the yawning questions over what she was going to be when she grew up if she wasn’t going to be a Blume.

She had no idea why she lied to herself about Evan’s importance.

Tears burned down her face, dripping onto the linoleum. The man had undone her with merely a glance. She’d fooled herself into thinking if they got naked and got busy that she could somehow figure out her strange fascination with him. A couple of mind-bending orgasms later and she could go on, happy and sated. Like all the other times she’d slept with a man.

Except the father of her baby. She’d been young and impressionable, easily believing his pretty promises that they’d be together forever, that he loved her and sex was a natural progression they should take. He’d sung a completely different tune when she naively went to him with the news that her missed period had meant exactly what she’d feared it did, but it would be okay because they could get married. Instead of agreeing, he’d told her to have an abortion and to never contact him again. If she didn’t get rid of “it,” he’d threatened, she’d never see a dime of child support.

That had been the last time Rachel cried over a man. Then she let her mother talk her into adoption because it was a baby no matter what and someone should get a chance to love him or her. After her daughter had been placed with a nice family, Rachel dove into learning as many ways as she could to legally punish a bastard who tried to withhold financial support from a woman who had trusted him.

A knock at the door threw her heart into her throat. Mortified, she dashed the tears away because it was not okay for anyone to see her fall apart. Least of all Evan. How she’d held on until he left, she’d never know.

It was Emma. Wearing a huge grin. Rachel didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that now was not the best time, so she smiled in return. “Hey, honey. I was just making chicken cacciatore. Want some?”

She’d offered food automatically because it was part of a good Jewish woman’s DNA to do so, but it stabbed her in the chest just the same. The chicken had been for Evan. She’d yet to actually cook for him and then sit down to eat the meal together, like she’d envisioned. How had their relationship gotten so dang complicated with no sex involved?

That was enough of a reason to keep her clothes on in Evan’s presence right there. What if she actually did manage to get him between the sheets? A man like Evan didn’t do shallow, she saw that now. Greedy as she was for him, she’d fall right into his depths as he made love to her, never to pull free.

Because she feared she wouldn’t want to. That was the problem.

Emma bounced into the room and settled onto the couch. “Nah, Dex is taking me out to eat. To celebrate. I have big news.”

Oh, God. Blindly, Rachel felt for the cushion of the couch so she could fall onto it before her knees gave out. She didn’t have to hear the words. It was obvious what her friend was about to say, given Emma’s perma-grin. “You’re pregnant.”

It was bound to happen, especially as often as she’d bet Emma and Dex did the deed. Nearly every client she’d ever represented who had children had admitted at least one was accidental. Which was usually what led to the divorce; the couple had only married because of the baby. If you never married in the first place, the odds of divorce dwindled to zero.

“Stop ruining my announcement.” Emma swiped at her, but her smile never wavered. “I’m not pregnant
yet
. But Dex and I talked about it. We decided I would stop taking my birth control pills and just, you know, see what happens. It could be months before it happens, but Rach. Oh my God. Dex and I are going to have a baby one day.”

Not pregnant. But would be soon. Emma’s tummy would grow round with her child, and she’d sing to it, rubbing the hard mound in anticipation. She’d give birth, and when the baby cried, the nurse would tuck the little bundle of pink into Emma’s waiting arms. They’d look at each other, bonding instantly because Emma was the mother, and she’d love her daughter until the end of time.

Jealousy tore through Rachel’s chest, swift and ugly, and she hated herself for it.

It took every ounce of her considerable stage presence, honed in multiple courtroom appearances, to smile and say, “That’s great, honey. I’m really happy for you.”

Emma launched into Rachel’s arms, hugging her effusively and babbling about bassinets and nursery themes. Rachel bit back every one of the comments on the tip of her tongue about how sometimes it was really hard to get pregnant, no matter how badly you wanted to. Also a common divorce story—one spouse wanted a baby and when the wife couldn’t get pregnant, the arguments started.

That was an ugly thought too, almost as bad as assuming Emma had accidently gotten pregnant. When had so much bleakness settled into Rachel’s soul, and why wasn’t she more pissed about
that
than she was about her crappy jealous reaction to Emma’s genuine joy?

“Thank you for being so sweet to me,” Emma said. “I know how cynical you are about marriage, and I just wish you could unbend enough to find someone who makes you as happy as I am.”

“I’m not cynical,” Rachel protested and then shut her eyes. She and Emma had been friends for a decade, and there was no point in pretending when obviously Rachel’s feelings had been clear enough to read. “Maybe a little.”

“It’s okay. I still love you.”

After Emma left, Rachel wet a washcloth and lay down on the couch with it over her eyes. The cool compress didn’t dissolve the sting, and it didn’t salve the jagged ache in her stomach that all the baby talk had created.

No. The rawness had happened because of Evan. Emma had just poked at the existing wound. Unwittingly, of course. Her friend had no idea that Rachel had chased after Evan without fully understanding what was going to happen when she caught him—a freaking disaster.

But was it really? He’d wanted nothing more than for Rachel to share deep, meaningful pieces of herself with him. The way normal people did when they were developing a relationship. But that wasn’t what she’d signed up for. When she’d tried to tell him… Oh, God. The look on his face.

Her heart flipped over in her chest, squeezing painfully.

When she’d accused Evan of being the poster child for the push-pull going on in their relationship, she should have held up a mirror instead. She
was
just as bad as Evan. And he’d called her on it all right.

Rachel had spent the past twelve years trying to atone for a mistake, which had failed miserably, and in the meantime had developed callouses on her heart that prevented her from being with a man who had the depths of Evan Silva.

Maybe she should try it his way.

Maybe that was part of what it meant to be what he needed. Emotionally. He’d needed to connect with her, and she’d totally rejected it, rejected him. And then he’d taken off to God knew where.

Rachel sat up. That wasn’t true. She knew exactly where he was.

T
he bartender at the resort pool bar glanced at Evan for the ninth time as the man pulled a frothy dark beer from the tap. “Still okay?” he called.

Not even a little bit. Evan nodded and sipped his cola. Virgin. For now.

The longer he sat here, the harder it was to keep from lifting his hand and motioning for a shot of rum. The bartender was new and didn’t have any idea that Evan wasn’t supposed to be taking up one of his barstools. He’d dump a jigger of Bacardi in the highball without a thought. Especially since there were paying customers who would gladly order something more expensive than a soft drink, none of whom could sit at the bar while Evan was there.

It would only be right to order alcohol if he was taking a spot from someone who was drinking.

A blonde wearing a bikini top and board shorts at the end of the bar kept trying to catch his eye. With minimal encouragement, she’d buy him a drink in a heartbeat. And then it wouldn’t be his fault. No one could blame him for being social, right?

Rachel would.

The woman would not get out of his head.

Sounds like you’ve got a lot more strength than you give yourself credit for,
she’d said. Which was a complete lie. He was weak. Or he wouldn’t be sitting here contemplating all the ways he could have a drink and get away with it.

Evan’s stomach turned over and back again. He couldn’t do it. Rachel would know instantly the moment she got a good look at him that he’d fallen off the wagon. Or jumped off, as the case may be. He couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing her.

That pissed him off too.

Rachel
. Always Rachel. She shouldn’t matter. The woman was just his roommate. That was all she’d ever be, all he could handle, regardless of whether he’d finally accepted the fact that he wanted more. She didn’t. She’d made that super clear. Twice.

Pushing away from the bar, he stalked to the speedboat and drove to Ilhota Rosa. Which was where he should have gone in the first place. He had no business haunting the resort bar when he was so off-kilter.

Ilhota Rosa bloomed out of the ocean, coloring the darkness inside him with pink and green. Peace spread deeper inside him the closer he drew. Here his world made sense, and he could build himself back up well enough to interact with the—he did a double take. The universe clearly had a sick sense of humor.

As if he’d conjured her, Rachel stood on the dock in a bright blue sundress that competed with the sky, watching the boat approach. Her long brown hair blew across her face, and she fingered it away.

Evan scowled. What was she doing here? Rachel might be the absolute last thing he could deal with right now. Would serve her right for tracking him down if he turned the boat around without docking.

But common decency won over pettiness. She’d obviously gotten Charlie to drop her off, and if Evan sped away like he should, she’d be trapped. If Charlie had the other boat, he could be halfway to Abaco on a date or something.

Plus Evan had a terrible case of curiosity. And when it came to Rachel, his middle name might as well be “cat” because it was most definitely a killer.

After tying up the boat, he vaulted to the rickety boards that passed for the dock and crossed his arms as his gaze caught on her face. Her
bare
face.

Boldly she met his gaze and raised the stakes instantly. “I left my glasses at home. No lies. See me, Evan. I want you to.”

Something bright burst open in his chest. Anticipation. Hope, maybe. God, she was so beautiful, standing there on the dock he’d built, facing him down without resorting to cheap lines or hiding behind her vocal prowess. She’d dropped every one of her barriers, and greedily his isolated soul drank it in.

“Why now?” he managed to ask around the thickness in his throat.

“Because we’ve been doing things according to Rachel’s rulebook since day one. I’ve made both of us miserable as a result.” She lifted one shoulder. “Let’s see what happens if I just let it go, so to speak. If you’ll pardon the Disney reference.”

He didn’t smile. “What do you want to happen?”

She shook her head with a laugh that managed to be not the slightest bit amused. “What I want is to stay in the shallow end. Nobody gets hurt. Everyone has fun. To have my cake and eat it too, which is how I’ve tried to live my life for so long. It’s not working because what’s going on between us isn’t shallow, not by any stretch. This is not about what I
want
. Or what you want. It’s about what is. Both of us are bad at that, at taking things at face value. Bad at laying down our baggage, to hell with it.”

He was. So bad at that. For good reasons, but maybe not solely for the reasons he’d told himself. He hadn’t caved in at the bar earlier when it would have been so easy to numb the tide of everything. Because he’d envisioned this woman’s disappointment, and it had stopped him cold. She didn’t have to battle her own flaws on a minute-by-minute basis like he did. Her strength called to him, had attracted him since day one.

Rachel wasn’t Carrie. And maybe she should be allowed to make her own choices about who she wanted to be with. He’d run a lot of scripts in his head about the reasons Rachel
shouldn’t
want to be with him, but in the end, they were nothing but assumptions. She was here. He was here. Maybe they could both see what happened if they let go.

“What does that look like?” he asked. “Laying it down?”

The tote bag on her shoulder dropped to the dock with a thud and she yanked a blanket from its depths. “This is new to me too. But I do know it’s not going to happen standing here staring at each other. I have a blanket. I have dinner. Come sit with me, and let’s have a real date. The kind that normal people have when they like each other and want to see where things go.”

That got a smile out of him. “You finally got me on a real date.”

“I know, right?” She flashed her own smile, but then it faded to be replaced by an expression so raw it sliced through him. “That’s what this is. Real. No lies on Ilhota Rosa. Once we leave, we can go back to our corners. We do have to live together. But for now we’re here. Be here with me.”